


Memories of Godly Selfishness 2 - Tyrant's Tomb Edition

by Keyseeker



Series: MoGS fics [2]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Canon Compliant, Child Murder, Gen, Gore, Graphic decomposition of corpses, It's the Niobe myth, Through the Tyrant's Tomb, it ain't pretty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 00:23:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20921108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keyseeker/pseuds/Keyseeker
Summary: Since "Memories of Godly Selfishness" is no longer canon compliant I wanted to write a new fic with a similar premise that IS compliant with Tyrant's Tomb, especially since TTT indicates that the old myths are fair game.Chapter 1: Apollo and Meg come across a weeping stone and are swept into memories of the past - memories that Apollo would rather not recall.





	Memories of Godly Selfishness 2 - Tyrant's Tomb Edition

I looked around, the dread I’d been feeling since we’d arrived pooling in my stomach. Whatever was about to happen - whatever we were about to experience - I doubted it would be pleasant.

A fragment of prophecy had led us to a familiar-looking rock on a mountain that sort of looked like it had a human face on it, water running in rivulets down its face, almost like it was crying. I hoped it was my imagination. I was almost certain it was not.

Meg, naturally, had the bright idea of cartwheeling over and touching the stony face. She’d collapsed immediately upon touching it. I’d rushed over, attempting to pull her away from the strange coma-inducing rock… and promptly got knocked out myself when I touched her.

Or at least, I presume that’s what happened to my physical body. For me, the world seemed to swirl around before depositing me here, in this palace. Meg was right beside me thankfully, so at least I knew she wasn’t in some other, separate torment.

Meg looked over at me, frowning. “What’s going on? Where are we?”

I gave her a reproachful look. “You touched the weird rock and passed out. I hurried over to help you and got caught in… whatever this is. Seriously Meg, don’t touch strange things! You never know what sort of curse could be on them!”

She stuck out her tongue at me.

I rolled my eyes and looked around. Chastising Meg was clearly not going to do any good, might as well see about getting out of our current predicament. THEN I could go back to impressing on her the importance of NOT TOUCHING STRANGE OBJECTS.

Judging by the architecture we were somewhere in Ancient Greece. That didn’t narrow things down much. Perhaps the people would give more of a clue?

I looked around the hall. Several handsome young men, ranging from the late teens to the mid-twenties from the looks of them, lounged around, working on hunting equipment.

I could appreciate that. In my mortal form, I had gained a new appreciation for the amount of prep and maintenance work non-divine beings needed to put into their equipment in order to keep it in a peak state.

Some younger women and girls - the oldest appeared to be about seventeen, while the youngest looked closer to Harley’s age, so more like eight - played around with small toys, or wove fine tapestries. One of the older girls who appeared to be about sixteen - slightly younger than my mortal age now - gently talked to a younger girl about Meg’s age, showing her how to spin the thread they would use later.

It all seemed so happy and peaceful.

I knew it wouldn’t last.

Those bright orange robes the young men were wearing - they niggled at my memory. I KNEW those robes. I knew what they represented. But it just… wouldn’t come forward.

My brain seemed to be saying, _Are you sure you want to remember this? There are so many other lovely things we could be thinking about instead. Like how you’re going to defeat Python without the protection of immortality! Or what’s waiting for you and Meg at Nero’s Tower!_

_Those are HAPPIER things to think of? _I asked my brain incredulously._ Just how bad is whatever happens here?_

_Er…_

My brain went silent.

Well that was a bad sign.

I just hoped whatever happened wouldn’t hurt Meg too badly. From the slightly nauseous crawling feeling of guilt clawing its way through my insides, I guessed this was going to demonstrate another example of me being an asshole. I’d probably deserve whatever would happen. But Meg did NOT.

Meg looked at my expression quizzically. “What’s the problem? You look like you expect to be punched in the gut.”

My mouth dry, I nodded. “I think after this, you’ll probably want to.”

Meg frowned. “This isn’t like with Coronis or Harpocrates, is it? Seriously, how bad WERE you?”

I swallowed down the urge to say_ I don’t know, but I have the feeling you’ll find out._

Instead I looked away. “I’m not sure what’s going to happen. I don’t remember. Just… be on your guard. And… whatever happens… just know that I love you. Whatever you think of me after this. Even if you don’t want anything to do with me afterwards.”

Meg’s expression turned alarmed, her eyes widening. “Apollo? APOLLO! What does THAT mean? What could you possibly have done that would make me want to leave you?”

Before I could answer (though I have no idea what I would have said) an older woman swept into the room. With her fine clothes and jewelry and overall regal demeanour, I concluded that she must be the Queen

I felt a stab of hatred looking at the haughty woman - but an even deeper curdling of guilt.

“Ah, my fine children!” she exclaimed, parading about the hall. “My pride and joy! Truly, I am fortunate above all to have so many wonderful sons and daughters! Surely I am more worthy of worship than that nearly barren Leto. She considers herself to be the Titan of Motherhood? HA! With the twelve children I have in comparison to her mere two, I am FAR more worthy of worship!”

Anger boiled through my veins. How DARE she speak of my mother like that! Yet it was muted. I had already exacted my revenge, I was sure. But what did I do? Why was I so afraid of remembering?

Meg snorted. “She’s an idiot.”

I nodded. “Yes. Yes she is.”

She studied me. “So… did you kill her then? Is that what this is about?”

“I…” I WISHED that was all. But I had a feeling that was not. “I… don’t think so.”

“That’s good then… right?” Meg asked.

I shook my head.

She frowned. “Did you do something worse?”

In answer, one of the young men cried out. He collapsed to the ground, revealing an arrow sticking out of his chest. Blood spilled out of wound as he gargled and died. People do not last long when they’ve been shot through the heart.

“Eudorus!” one of the other men screamed, before he, too, collapsed, an arrow having been shot through him, same as his brother.

Some of the girls screamed and tried to flee, but to no avail. The doors out of the palace were locked by a divine force. Others cradled their dead brothers, desperately trying to wake them.

I knew it was useless. Those were killing shots.

The brothers didn’t get to try the doors. One by one they were shot down.

Meg traced the direction of the arrows and turned around, trying to figure out where they had come from.

I turned as well, but I already knew what I would see. Behind us stood myself, golden, glowing, powerful - and very, VERY angry. I watched as I notched one last arrow to bring down the youngest of the sons - just a boy really, about the same age as Will.

“Please!” the boy cried out. “Please gods, please don’t kill me!”

I saw my godly face (how I wished to punch it now) soften slightly, but it was too late. The arrow loosed, the youth falling to the ground, dead. Had his death been a little less painful than the others? I’d like to think so, but I wasn’t sure. He was dead regardless, without a trace of remorse on my divine self’s face.

Meg’s mouth hung open, shocked. “Why… Why would you DO that?”

“I…”

I swallowed dryly, my mouth tasting like ashes. She would not like my reason. _I_ didn’t like my reason.

But this tragedy - no - this cruelty, this evil was not done.

As Queen Niobe (for I now remembered all too well who she was and what was happening here) hugged her dead sons, their blood staining her robes red.

She cried out, “Are you happy Leto, cruel one, now that my sons are dead? Feed your heart and be done, savage spirit! Enjoy your triumph over your enemy! But have you truly won? Is this really victory? I still have seven daughters, more than thrice what you possess! Even in the depths of my misery I have more children than you in your happiness! I still outdo you, even with half my children dead!”

Before when Niobe had yelled this, I had been furious with her presumption, for still not learning her lesson. Now I only felt pity and sorrow. She was an idiot. She was a MAJOR idiot. But she’d already suffered for her idiocy. Her CHILDREN had already suffered for her idiocy. Wasn’t this enough?

Gods, her children…

I shoved that thought out of my mind. This wasn’t over yet. I could think on that later.

Several of Niobe’s remaining children, her daughters, turned and gave her shocked looks… those that weren’t too caught up in crying over their dead siblings, or just too terrified to register much of anything.

That little eight-year-old girl, the youngest of Niobe’s children, ran to the safest person she knew: her mother. She clutched at her mother’s robes, burying her face, attempting to block out the awful, awful world, sobbing incoherently as her mother hugged her back.

It reminded me of Meg, of the few times she’d break down, show some vulnerability. Of when we were reunited in Indianapolis, her sobbing into my shirt, of my hugging her as she confessed how scared she was of losing me.

Another of Niobe’s daughters, the one that had been teaching the youngest child how to spin, walked over to her mother. She put her hand on her mother’s back, seeming to prepare to pull her into a hug… and then she screamed.

Niobe’s head snapped up, her eyes bulging. Her youngest daughter skittered around behind her, attempting to hide from whatever had caused her sister to scream.

The girl fell, revealing an arrow sticking out of her back.

Before she hit the ground, another high-pitched scream rang out. Then another. And another. And two more still.

In less than a minute almost all of Niobe’s daughters had joined her sons in death.

Trembling, Niobe threw herself towards her youngest daughter, the only one not yet dead. All her bravado had left her. What remained was a terrified, mourning mother.

She hugged her remaining child to her chest, attempting to envelop her, shield her as best she could.

“PLEASE!” she cried out, looking back at the cause of her new misery, at the second murderer of her children.

Artemis glowered back, her cold silver eyes nearly glowing. She notched one last arrow.

“Leave me just one, my littlest child!” she screamed. But it was no use. Artemis found an opening. She released the arrow.

The young girl, who only minutes ago was happily learning how to spin thread, had her string cut by the Fates. She screamed as the arrow entered her body, but not for long. In a body as small as hers, it took little to kill her.

Niobe broke down sobbing, clutching the body of her youngest daughter as her robe became stained red with her blood. She grieved and wailed, the stench of blood and other bodily fluids filling the air.

I wanted to wail with her. But I had no right to. I had been partially responsible, after all. I had thought nothing of murdering innocent people, adults and children alike, at the time. Gods, even a few months ago, I’d thought about this and THOUGHT THEY DESERVED IT.

“She- she killed her. She killed the rest of them…”

I froze. Slowly, I glanced back and to the side.

Meg stood there, eyes open wide, pale as a ghost. Her pupils shrunk to pinpricks.

The last time I’d seen her this horrified was in a flashback to when she was six, looking at her father’s corpse sprawled out in front of her.

A Beast had killed her father.

I wondered now - could it not be said that two Beasts killed Niobe’s children?

But… no. I would not pretend that some other person killed them. That neither of us could help it. We murdered them while in full control of our mental faculties.

Meg looked up at me, her face pale and drawn. “WHY!” she screamed. “WHY?! WHAT COULD THEY HAVE DONE TO _POSSIBLY_ DESERVE THIS?!”

“Nothing,” I replied, my voice hoarse. “They did NOTHING to deserve this.”

Meg stared at me. “Then- then why…?”

I swallowed. This wouldn’t make things better. But she deserved an explanation, as terrible as it was.

“The Queen - the older woman - she was proud of having so many fine children. At a ceremony honoring my and my sister’s mother, Leto, she decided that since SHE’D had so many fine children, that she should be worshipped instead. She ordered the priests to stop the ceremony, to take the laurels out of their hair and leave.

Mom was FURIOUS. Worship helps to empower us gods, so preventing that worship could cause her to weaken. Plus, the sheer NERVE of her declaring herself better than Leto, and her children to be better than Artemis and I? She was PISSED. She called Artemis and I to her and ranted about Niobe’s impudence, then asked us to murder all her children that she was oh-so-proud of.

We flew off at once. As soon as Niobe entered the room, we let loose. We wanted her to suffer. All her children were just- just collateral damage.”

“Collateral…?” Meg whispered. I flinched. “COLLATERAL DAMAGE?!”

“That’s how we thought,” I stated miserably, gazing at Niobe, still sobbing over her children’s bodies. Self-loathing filled my voice. “It didn’t MATTER that we killed innocent people - that we killed children. We were GODS. It was- it was DIVINE RETRIBUTION. It was the will of the gods, beyond reproach. In our minds - or in mine, at least - anything we did, the mortals deserved. Or… no. I should say, it didn’t MATTER whether the mortals deserved it. Our wishes, our decisions, overrode everything. Because we were gods. Because we were powerful. Because we had the right to do whatever we wished, so long as it didn’t conflict with the other gods. Murdering innocent people, innocent CHILDREN even? None of the other gods cared. So in my mind at least, it was fine. We’d dealt out our vengeance on Niobe for her insult against our mother. We didn’t care that we’d killed innocents in the process.”

“Artemis.” Meg stated, staring at the body of Niobe’s youngest daughter. The girl’s corpse looked waxy, a pungent smell of decay wafting around the room. I suspected that time was moving forwards at an accelerated speed while we talked. With the way her body - and the bodies of the other dead, children and adults alike, were visibly bloating - I estimated that we had just passed the 24 hour mark. “She killed all of Niobe’s daughters, even- even her youngest! Niobe was BEGGING and PLEADING for her kid’s life, and she just- she just killed her ANYWAY! I- I thought that Artemis was supposed to PROTECT kids, to protect women and girls especially! So- so why would she kill that little girl?!”

That stopped me for a moment. Meg had a point. The Artemis I knew nowadays… I couldn’t _imagine_ her doing anything like this.

But that doesn’t mean she’d _never_ been willing to do this, since clearly, she had. However… “Back in the old days,” I stated slowly, feeling my words out. “Artemis was as vengeful as any of the rest of us. She did more to help than most of the gods and goddesses did, especially when it came to protecting women and girls, but she wasn’t above hurting innocents when someone insulted her. She once unleashed a giant boar to ravage the countryside because a king forgot to give her offerings. I don’t think she considered the innocent people it would hurt who had nothing to do with his slight.”

“And THAT’S the kind of person Reyna pledged herself too? That the Hunters devoted themselves too?!” Meg asked disbelievingly.

I shook my head. “Maybe at one time, the oldest among my sister’s Hunters devoted themselves to her when she was still willing to do that sort of thing. By the standards of the day, this was normal.

But now? I can’t imagine her DOING anything like that now. A few years back, Percy’s girlfriend, Annabeth, was kidnapped. My sister was taken prisoner soon afterwards. Annabeth had been tricked into holding up the sky and was being crushed by its weight. My sister’s captors took her to Annabeth, to this girl she didn’t know, and simply showed her her situation. My sister took up the burden of the sky in order to save Annabeth’s life, trapping herself in the process.

Kronos’s forces had KNOWN she’d do that - known that my sister would sacrifice herself to save an innocent maiden, even though she was a stranger, even knowing it was a trap - because Artemis cared about her life regardless, and could not abide by her death if she could do something to save her.”

My sister had gained the compassion, the empathy, to care about mortals that she had no connection, put HERSELF at risk to save one. When had she gained that level of empathy?

I thought back through the centuries, through my many interactions with my sister and her Hunters. My sister… she HAD changed. She had become a better person over time, as she interacted, gained experience with mortals.

I, like most other gods, had longed professed the belief that gods don’t change or grow. That any differences in how we were, how we acted over time had to do more with changes in how humans perceived us, rather than our changing on our own. After all I’d been through, after how I’d changed from how I once was, I now knew that was false.

I should have known earlier than that. Artemis had changed as well. I just hadn’t paid attention. Or maybe I was afraid to. Because if Artemis could become a better person, then I could as well. At that time, it wasn’t a message I wanted to hear. I’d been trying to convince myself that I was an awesome and amazing person for millennia, after all. I didn’t need to be better! But if I’d thought about how Artemis had become better, that doubt would have come creeping in. So I blocked it out and just didn’t think about it.

Now my eyes were clear. For the first time in four thousand years, I felt like I was seeing the world as it was, rather than simply seeing my delusions. I could recognize the good and the bad, see and understand how different people think, how things might look from a different point of view than my own.

Meg looked at me warily. “And you? Would you have done ANYTHING like this?”

I swallowed, looking back at the corpses. Time had skipped forward some more while we were talking. Fluids were leaking out of all orifices of the corpses. Still Niobe sat unmoved, crying. I didn’t know how she did it. The smell was unbearable, the faces of her kids no longer recognizable. It had probably been a week at this point since my and my sister’s massacre.

I wrenched my eyes away, hoping that Meg hadn’t looked where I had. But it was evident that she’d followed my gaze. She looked nearly as green as some of the dead bodies. I was certain that if we’d been physically here, if this hadn’t been some sort of vision, that we’d BOTH be vomiting up the contents of our stomachs right now.

“I… I don’t think so,” I told her weakly, trying to ignore the decomposing bodies. I failed.

Meg was quiet for a moment. “So if you had met me before this - if you had known about Nero and went to kill him - would you have killed me too? Because I was in the way? Because he was my- my stepfather? Would you have killed all of us in his household, everyone the Beast took?”

“I-” I wanted to say no, of course not, I would’ve tried to avoid killing anyone who didn’t clearly deserve it, especially kids.

But that would have been a lie. Even less than a year ago, I had contemplated killing Leo, Frank, Hazel, and the rest of the Seven merely because they were around, and for some IDIOTIC reason I thought that MAYBE that would please my Father and get me back into his good books. I have no idea what I was thinking then. Nowadays, I could barely comprehend how I used to think.

Would I have killed everyone in Nero’s household, including the children? I wasn’t sure. I didn’t think I’d go out of the way to kill them. But if they had attacked me, even if I knew they wouldn’t be able to harm me, even though they might be very, very young, I was afraid the answer was _yes_.

I may not have gone out of my way to murder children. But I doubted that I would have gone out my way to avoid it either. And if I was well and truly upset? All bets were off.

My silence was answer enough for Meg. Quietly she stated, “You were a horrible person.”

I couldn’t deny it. Not after everything that had happened. Not after remembering Coronis, or the Cumaean Sibyl, or Harpocrates.

But… I lingered on the way that she said I *was* a horrible person. Not *is* a horrible person. It reminded me of how Reyna had talked about me soon after discovering what I’d done to Coronis. How she’d said I _used_ to the god of music. How she’d seemed to believe that as terrible as I’d been, I still had the capacity for good now. How she’d believed that I could be a better person.

Did Meg still believe in me, despite everything?

Movement stirred in the corner of my vision. I looked around instinctively.

Several gods had descended on the scene. One touched the inconsolable Niobe, who hadn’t even seemed to notice the visitors. Wind whirled around her, and she was whisked away to somewhere else.

I tried to identify who the gods were as they picked up the bodies, but it was impossible. My eyes just seemed to slip off them whenever I looked for detail.

The bodies, though… they had no such filter. Their skin had started to blacken, rupturing open in some places. Lifting them up, the skin seemed to slide around, exposing more putrid stench to the already pungent air.

As the gods flew out, corpses in tow, the world dissolved.

Abruptly I was thrown back into my body. Meg stirred at the same time. She glanced at where I was touching her and jumped back.

I threw up. I could hear - and smell - Meg doing the same a few feet away. All of the grotesque gore and decay I’d seen had caught up to me. I’d thought that killing Commodus was terrible? That was NOTHING compared to what I’d been responsible for centuries before that.

The difference was, now I cared.

After Meg and I had finished retching, I looked up at Meg. Tears ran down her face. She looked awful. “What- what WAS that?” she croaked, her throat raw from the stomach acid.

I took a step closer to her, instinctively seeking to comfort her. She retreated several steps. “St-stay back!” she cried, sounding scared. “That’s an order!”

I halted. I had no choice.

Meg had reverted to giving me direct, explicit orders. She felt like she needed to. Because I frightened her.

I couldn’t blame her. If I had been in her situation, I wouldn’t have felt safe around me either. Heck, I didn’t even feel safe around me NOW.

I’d never wished so hard to be someone else.

But I couldn’t change the past. Right now, I needed to concentrate on the present. And that meant answering Meg’s question. “I think that was Niobe’s memory. After we killed her children, Zeus turned all the people of the city to stone so that no one could help bury her kids. She sobbed over them for nine days, only leaving to eat and drink. On the tenth day the other gods took pity on her, transforming her into stone and burying her kids themselves, since she was too distraught to do so. They depetrified the townspeople soon afterwards. Since Niobe didn’t see that part herself, I assume that what we saw at the end was her assumption of what happened. That’s why the gods weren’t identifiable. Someone probably told her what happened afterwards, and that’s what she imagined.”

Meg frowned, “But… if that was Niobe’s memory… then where is she?”

I looked past Meg, at the rock behind her. The rock she’d touched at the start of all this. The rock with a human face. “I think… that’s her. Her spirit was placed in that rock to weep eternally. We just got caught up in a cycle of her memories.”

“She’s- she’s been reliving that,” Meg whispered, horrified. “THIS WHOLE TIME?!”

I nodded, guilt making my insides burn. “I think so.”

“We- we have to help her,” Meg croaked.

“I don’t think there’s anything either of us can do for her now,” I told her gently. “Not as things stand. But- when I’m a god again, I’ll try to help her. I’ll talk to Hades. Maybe he can get her soul to move on, bring her some measure of peace.”

Meg looked at me silently, then nodded.

We stood there another minute, me staring into space.

What now? Where could we possibly go from here?

Meg knew now what a horrible, repulsive being I was._ I_ knew how horrible I was. I honestly wouldn’t blame her if she wanted to leave me, this time for good.

Abruptly, Meg spoke. “I feel like I should hate you.”

“You have every right to,” I told her. “I hate me.”

Meg shook her head. “But… I don’t. As horrible as you were - and you were a terrible person, you REALLY sucked - I still care about you. You’re still - you’re still my adopted brother. But I don’t want to be around you right now. I need some time to - to think about this.”

I nodded, a lump in my throat. It was more than I could have hoped for.

“I’ll give you as much space as I can. But… I can’t exactly leave, Meg. Not until we get somewhere safe.”

She bit her lip. “Just… don’t touch me. Not now. I’ll- I’ll have time to think about this more when we’re at Camp Half-Blood. But for now, I just - can’t stand to be around you more than I have to.”

After a moment, Meg breathed out. Determination shone in her eyes, as if she’d just purged some of the horror and sorrow from herself.

“Let’s go,” she told me. “I don’t think I’ll be able to rest around here.”

I followed her, staying several meters behind, trying to give her space.

She hadn’t disowned me entirely. That was enough for now. More than I deserved.

As we traveled in silence, I contemplated what I’d seen, what I’d learned.

When us gods fought, innocent mortals died in the cross fire. When we punished mortals, we often punished the innocent along with the guilty, even though we were often powerful enough to target our wrath more precisely so that it mostly hit the actual object of our ire.

With Niobe, Artemis and I didn’t have to murder her children in order to punish her, or even really to comply with our mother’s request. We were gods. We could have made her go mad, given her visions of us murdering her children. There was no need to actually do it. Whether it actually happened or Niobe only THOUGHT it happened, the same thing would have accomplished, as far as Niobe’s punishment went. The difference would have been, that her kids, who had done nothing wrong except to have her as a mother, would still be alive. They would not have suffered for their mother’s misdeed - well, no more than having an insane mother would cause them to suffer, at any rate.

We gods had already started to move away from these more extreme cases of wreaking havoc on innocents in recent millennia. But still we were too careless with innocent lives, especially when we were upset.

That HAD to change. I would make SURE it changed.

I wasn’t sure how yet. I couldn’t control what others gods did. I didn’t have Zeus’s authority, and Zeus himself would be unlikely to agree with me.

But I would try.

Never again would I intentionally murder innocent people just to get revenge.

Never again would I allow my family to do the same.

Never again.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll admit that I had trouble with Meg's and Apollo's reactions during this chapter. Because just... how do you handle watching innocent kids be brutally murdered and then left to rot? Especially knowing that you are partly to blame/that your friend is partly to blame.
> 
> I kinda mixed and matched different versions of the Niobe myth, but tried to keep the core of it intact. The details vary a lot anyway. Like, I know that usually the sons are off somewhere else doing some activity together when Apollo slays them first, but I wanted to only write one scene so I stuck them all together and had the massacre happen at once. I'm not sure whether there are versions of the myth like that, but I don't think it makes that much of a difference.
> 
> I forgot about Niobe's husband until I was partway through writing so I just left him out. He also dies in all the versions of the myth I know, but sometimes he dies after trying to kill Apollo for killing his sons, and sometimes he commits suicide after finding out his sons are dead. I'm gonna say that in this version that he committed suicide after learning of his children's fate. I don't think it matters much so long as he dies as a consequence of his own actions after learning his kids are dead.
> 
> I had trouble finding detailed versions of this myth, so I mostly took details from Ovid, since it was the most detailed version of the myth I could find. That's where things like the youngest son begging for mercy comes from, or Niobe attempting to protect her youngest child.
> 
> And in case anyone was wondering why the sons were so much older than the daughters, In every version of the myth I saw, none of Niobe's children seemed to be married yet, though some were of marrying age. Since from what I found, it wasn't unusual for me to hold out until age thirty before being married, while girls were typically teenagers when they were married off, it was WAY more plausible for Niobe's sons to be adults and not be married, than for her daughters to be.
> 
> I am planning on writing a second chapter at some point where someone (probably Chiron, but that's not set in stone) talks about some of the GOOD things Apollo did as a god to show that he had some redeeming qualities and wasn't completely terrible, but I dunno when I'll get around to writing that. In any case I couldn't exactly throw that into this chapter since Meg didn't know about any of it and Apollo's not gonna bring it up. Plus, after watching Apollo slaughter innocent people who couldn't fight back is REALLY not the best time to bring up things like him peacefully letting one of his lovers go and transforming her into a nymph to give her a long life, or helping to establish the foundations for Camp Half-Blood. Seems too much like trying to excuse it, especially since these pale in comparison to child murder.


End file.
